


I Suffer Mornings Most Of All

by DamionAerynStarr



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e01 Renovationklok, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 05:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10210253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DamionAerynStarr/pseuds/DamionAerynStarr
Summary: We saw you lying in the roadWe tried to dig a decent graveBut it's still no way to behaveIt's been nine months since Charles "died" and Nathan is not okay. Neither is Charles.(Post-Renovationklok)





	

Charles had been hoping for some peace following the concert, a moment to recollect and put himself back together, but the hulking lead singer on his heels had other plans. He sighed quietly as he passed through the open door of his office on the Dethkoptor, not acknowledging Nathan but not throwing him out either. Charles simply went to his closet and picked carefully through the suits hanging there, untouched even after nine months. He felt a pang of something that he refused to name seeing his life frozen in time, just waiting for him to return and pick up where he left off. 

He heard the door click closed, surprisingly quiet, and stared unseeing into his closet. The air was heavy between them, thick and suffocating and only breakable by words, but Charles knew that it was a delicate situation. The wrong words, the wrong context could shatter everything that hung brittle around them, destroying the careful relationship they'd built over the years. Nathan didn't have to say that his absence had been a betrayal, because Charles had felt it in his heart and in his veins every moment he was away from his boys; his Nathan.

"Nine months." Nathan finally growled, voice dark with emotion. Charles closed his eyes, wincing as if struck, before he turned to face the singer. "Nine. Fucking. Months!" The black-haired man was suddenly across the room and in his CFO's face, snorting and growling like a raging bull. Charles resisted the urge to take a step back, carefully keeping his face and posture impassive.

"Nathan-"

"Fuck you!" Nathan's beefy hands fisted Charles' black shirt and shoved him until his back hit the wall. Nathan's larger form was plastered to Charles' front, their noses brushing. This time, Charles couldn't keep the panic from slipping into the well-worn lines on his face. "You left us alone! You left ME alone! For nine fucking months! You let us almost run ourselves into the ground!"

"I assure you, I never would've-"

"You don't get to explain! You have no excuse!" Charles pressed his lips closed. He wasn't used to this Nathan. Normally the volatile singer took his frustrations out on other poor souls; he'd never once turned on his own manager. 

Nathan stared down at him for a moment before his hands slowly relaxed from their grip on Charles' shirt, uncurling to just rest on the smooth slope of his chest. Charles felt the singer's warm fingers trace scars through the thin black fabric covering his torso. It made him shiver. 

"We thought you were dead. We had to have a funeral. We....we had to burn you." Charles dropped his eyes to Nathan's chest. He'd watched the memorial on tv, though he'd told himself he wouldn't, and as each of his boys stood up and said everything they'd never said while he was "alive", something built in his chest, weighing on his heart and lungs until he thought he'd asphyxiate. When Nathan, the last of them to speak, laid a hand on his coffin and said, so quietly that Charles had to read the words "I'll miss you, Charlie" on the singer's lips, the former CFO had viciously shut off the tv and paced his crappy motel room. He'd run his hands through his hair over and over, nearly pulling it out and telling himself that he wasn't crying, that this was for the best, that they'd understand, until a shattering sound snapped him out of his stupor. He realized that he was standing in the bathroom, blood oozing from his knuckles and staring at his own cracked reflection in the broken mirror. He'd started laughing, until it twisted into heavy sobbing, driving him to his knees. 

"I'm sorry." Charles whispered harshly, tears pressing against the back of his eyes. He looked up at Nathan, the closest he'd ever had to a friend, and grief in the man's dark eyes was more than the normally cool manager could take. "I'm sorry." The words caught in his throat, and he felt himself begin to shake. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Charles bowed his head and threaded his long fingers through his hair. He curled in on himself, still murmuring apologies like a skipping cd. His legs trembled beneath him, and he felt large hands gently grip his shoulders, keeping him upright.

"Charles," Nathan rumbled quietly, unseen alarm on his face. "Charles, c'mon." He pulled his manager close, wrapping his strong arms around the trembling body. Charles stilled, quietly choking on shuddering sobs, caught offguard by the sudden outburst of emotion from the normally laconic singer. "We missed you, Charles. I missed you so much. I tried to do everything, but I just-" Charles heard Nathan swallow hard. "I couldn't. We need you, and I never told you, none of us did, and...." Nathan drew back to look in Charles' brown eyes, touching his cheek and thumb brushing the bottom of the scar on Charles' temple. "I need you, Charles. Dethklok needs you. And I'm sorry-" 

Charles silenced him, pressing his lips to Nathan's. It was too much. He didn't know how long it had been since anyone actually told him that he was appreciated; that his devotion and patience were recognized and needed. All he knew was that hearing everything he needed to hear coming from Nathan Explosion was overwhelming, so he stopped it the only way he could think of. Nathan froze against him, and terror wrapped icy cold around Charles' heart. He'd just destroyed everything, thrown away the life he'd fought and nearly died for in one stupid move. But when he tried to pull back, Nathan grunted and grasped Charles' hair to keep him in place. When the singer's tongue pressed heavily against his lips Charles' mouth fell open in surprise. Nathan thrust his tongue into the hot cavern of Charles' mouth, making the CFO gasp. 

The skilled tongue traced his teeth slowly while Nathan's other hand slipped under Charles' shirt, running over his cold skin to the small of his back. Nathan's wide palm pressed against the raised brand at the base of Charles' spine, completely covering the mark. His index finger softly stroked the crooked scar that bisected the gear brand, running from Charles' left hip and twisting up his back to his right side, fading just under his rib cage. Charles shuddered at the memory that flooded his senses.

It had been on their first tour, shortly after Dethklok released their first album and their popularity skyrocketed. Charles had to admit, he wasn't as on his toes as he should've been in those days, but it was before all the death threats, assassination attempts and insane fans. So when someone jumped on the stage brandishing two knives, Charles froze in place. Until the would-be murderer slashed at Nathan, and the singer fell to the floor. 

Charles had lunged across the stage, running full speed at the knife-wielder. He put his head down and tackled the man attacking his band; his boys. They tumbled down together, Charles on top to pin the attacker down. The manager felt the man beneath him move and fire lit on his left side, spreading quickly across his back until he knew nothing but pain. The man pushed Charles off him, leaving the CFO to slowly go cold as he bled onto the stage. As everything faded to black Charles heard distant screams, and a deep voice yelling his name followed him into darkness.

That was back before Mordhaus and their own personal hospital, so Charles woke in a local hospital with bandages on his back wrapped from one side to the other. Nathan, who'd been at his bedside reading the newspaper, told him he was a lucky guy. Apparently only a single layer of muscle had protected his organs from the knife and certain death. When Charles asked what had happened to the attacker, something dark crossed Nathan's face. 

"He won't be a problem anymore." Nathan growled cryptically before turning back to his paper. "Get some more sleep. You need it." And though Charles' head was already swimming just thinking of the amount of work he had waiting for him, he slept deeply under his singer's watchful eye.

Charles was yanked back into the present when he felt the edge of his desk biting into the back of his legs. Nathan crowded in closer, pressing every inch of his larger frame against his manager's like he was trying to sink into Charles' skin. "Nathan." He breathed against the singer's lips. 

Nathan growled in response, biting at his mouth hard enough to draw blood. He moved lower, dragging his teeth over the tender flesh of Charles' throat. The manager's head tilted back in submission, his whole body arching closer into Nathan's heat. Nathan's hands moved, shoving at Charles' jacket ineffectually until the CFO got the hint and shed it himself. Before the other man could react Nathan wrapped his fists in Charles' black shirt and ripped it open, baring his chest.

"Nathan-" Charles tried again, his head spinning. The singer paid him no mind, just dove in to taste the pale skin laid out before him. Nathan placed a biting kiss over Charles' racing heart. "Nathan, wait-" Charles couldn't see Nathan's new target through his long black hair, and a hot tongue dragging over one of his nipples made him grab the edge of the desk before his legs gave out entirely. It had been far too long.

Nathan moved again, kissing the scars over Charles' ribcage and lower, a scrape of teeth over a cluster of scar tissue just above the hollow of Charles' hip. Someone as equally talented with a sword had run him through after sneaking in to a record company party undetected. As the other guests at the party, including Dethklok themselves, and the smirking attacker watched, Charles had ripped the sword out of his own flesh and drove it into the man's heart. Charles had smiled at the shocked look on the swordsman's face before everything went dark.

That time he woke up in the private hospital at Mordhaus, and again Nathan was at his side, nursing a cup of strong coffee though it was three in the morning. Nathan had taken Charles' hand in his own and given him a soft, adoring smile that Charles had never seen before. "Go back to sleep, Charlie. You're safe here," He had rumbled, voice pitched low, and Charles listened.

"Nathan. Nathan!" Charles half-shouted, grabbing the singer's arms and pushing him back. Hurt flashed in Nathan's green eyes, and Charles immediately regretted it. "Nathan, I....we can't..." He stammered out. Nathan stood up, their noses brushing and Charles subconsciously tilted his head, eyes flitting to the singer's lips. "We can't do this." He whispered, more to himself than the other man pressed against his body.

"Why?" Nathan growled, reaching between them to press his palm against Charles' cock. The CFO gasped, shuddering. "Why can't we do this?"

"You-" Charles panted, fighting to get himself under control. He couldn't stop from pushing up into the warmth of Nathan's strong hand. "You don't know what this means."

Nathan gave him a wicked smile that was more teeth than anything else. "Oh I'm pretty sure I know what this means." He gave a pointed look and a light squeeze to Charles' groin, getting a choked moan for his efforts that made his smile widen.

"To me!" Charles blurted out, coherent words a struggle at this point. He grabbed Nathan's wrist, pushing it away from his own body so he could breathe and think. "You don't know what this means to me."

Nathan took a step back, looking stricken. Charles felt a surge of guilt that he viciously shoved away. A little guilt now was nothing compared to what awaited him if he let this continue. 

"You think this doesn't mean something to me?" Nathan finally said quietly after a long, heavy silence. "You think you don't mean something to me?"

"Not..." Charles swallowed, gathering a sliver of courage. "Not like you mean to me." 

Nathan was suddenly pressed against him again, his large hands cupping Charles' face with infinite tenderness. "For a genius, you're a real idiot." He said, not unkindly. Charles didn't know how to respond, so Nathan ducked down for another kiss, hesitating only slightly in case the lawyer wanted to push him away again. 

It was slow, and sweet, and nothing like the burst of passion that it had been before. Charles gripped the edge of his desk to resist the urge to touch, and tried not to think about how it felt a little like love.

"They had to drag me away from your body," Nathan whispered against his lips. Charles swallowed his guilt. "When they said you were gone I punched the doctor." 

Charles couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped him, a loud and slightly hysterical sound that felt alien in his chest. Nathan huffed a small laugh himself, pressing his forehead against his manager's.

"I didn't...I didn't want to believe him. I had seen you on the lawn, I'd felt you take your last breath and I..." Nathan took a breath, warm on Charles' skin, and the CFO finally let himself touch, resting his hands on Nathan's shoulders. 

"Nathan-"

"I didn't believe you were dead until the funeral. Until we lit your pyre. I watched the entire pile turn to ashes and it hit me like a fucking truck that you were gone."

Something wet hit Charles' cheek, and he realized with a start that Nathan was crying. Something clenched in his chest.

"Nathan, I am-"

"Don't. Don't apologize again," Nathan pulled away, slapping at the tears on his cheeks. Charles pressed his lips in a tight line and squeezed Nathan's shoulders reassuringly, prepared for the emotional and physical distance he was certain would follow. Instead Nathan pulled him in for another long kiss, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck and the other heavy on Charles' hip. Nathan's thumb pressed significantly on the scar there. "You're important to me, you idiot. Please don't leave again."

"I won't." Charles said quietly. It was a lie, he didn't know if everything surrounding his band would let him stay, but he knew he had to try. 

He shed the remains of his shirt, let Nathan map out his body on the surface of his desk, and didn't let himself think about anything else for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> So this monster was started back in 2013. Just glad I finally finished it. Title is taken from the song "Have To Drive" by Amanda Palmer.


End file.
